


We’d be the Band on The Run

by sherlocked221



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: All the Beatles are struggling with their fame, and for Mclennon, nothing is quite how it used to be.But some things never change and they still can talk as close friends, despite the straining on all their friendships.Not exactly meant as the origins of Paul's inspiration for Band on The Run, but an interpretation of the lyrics,





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something using the lyrics of Band On The Run because of the lines;  
> 'And the first one said to the second one there, I hope you're having fun'  
> Just because I think of the first one as being John asking Paul if he's enjoying himself, like back when they were just becoming famous. After all, I always think of John as bringing Paul into the whole band thing as they were in The Quarrymen together. Sorry for the long, unnecessary note about my personal connection to this song, I just... thought it useful to see my thought process and I'm in the mood to write, so...

Stuck inside these bloody four walls; fangirls, the press, our families and our images. Every room that wasn’t my house felt like another cell, another part of this trapping. We were stuck, sent inside this prison both we and everyone else had created for us, forever.

We were doing what we loved, so why the hell did we hate it so much now?

John and I sat across from each other as we never had before. We were silent, sick, furious and we saw this down time as a chance to be lost in our own thoughts. We were not talking, writing some song, giggling like kids because we were too high to know any different. No, we were smoking, chins sunk on chests, slouched in armchairs. I was playing idly with my lighter while John was… well, I don’t even know. First, he was fucking about with the zipper on his jacket, then had some tiny sheet of paper, like just a little scrap and he was flicking it between his fingers, making this sound that shouldn’t have irritated me, but grated on me until he thankfully stopped and began adjusting his watch.

This wasn’t how it was meant to be and I hated it.

“Have you ever thought about getting out of here?” I said, my voice sounding excessively loud in the small, silent space.

“There’s a door there.” John replied, flippantly, checking the time for the fifth time, “But Eppy would kill us, you know.”

I nodded and allowed the conversation to die down as I lost myself in my thoughts. There was something right in the forefront of my mind, yet it was misty, like a smoke screen that blurred everything else I tried to think about. I could neither focus on it, nor ignore it.

“I don’t just mean here.”

“What?” It had been a while and I guessed that John had forgotten my last question. He didn’t even look at me. He took to cleaning his glasses on his shirt.

“Well, I was just thinking about, if we got out of all of… this, what would we do?”

“Paul, you’re not making any sense.”

“Do I ever?” I quipped back, then all of a sudden turned serious again, “I mean, if we just ran away. Me, you. Even George and Richie. Just pissed off out of the spotlight.”

John laughed loudly at that, enjoying the idea a lot given the huge smile suddenly appearing on his tired face, “What? And just make it, living on some farm or something. You’re crazy.”

“Telling me you wouldn’t like it. We’d just give it all away and, you know, find some crappy job that pays next to nothing and live off it. Proper back to Liverpudlian basics.” I was laughing as well, my eyes fixed firmly on the rare and beautiful sight of happy John, happy with me like when we were kids in school. He always looked very handsome grinning, his whole face lighting up with a familiar glow as smiles always de-aged him, always reminded me of when we were teens, running stupidly down school corridors and playing at gigs under the name of ‘The Quarrymen.’

“All we’d need is a pint a day, to use a Ringo-ism.” John said, in a mocking, silly voice, “It wouldn’t be so bad.”

At that moment, the window exploded in pale colour as the sky ignited with a flash of fork lightning, followed by a crash of thunder so loud it made us two jump a little, before we started watching out into the rain, thoughts of escaping this life we’d created manifesting in our own minds instead of being shared. There was something, at least for me, about the rain that made me all imaginative. It helped inspire songs, it gave depth to my dreams and acted now like droplets of a mask of which I could slip away silently under. But I didn’t want to go alone. I wanted to find some car and have it filled with my three friends. We’d hold hands and encourage each other not to look back, despite none of us being entirely confident in setting out anyway.

Then, as my thoughts ran away with themselves, John’s voice penetrated that blur between fantasy and reality to speak both with his real lips and those of the John in my mind, his words being equally as relevant in either situation.

“I hope you’re having fun.”

“Hu?” I mumbled, tearing my eyes from the beautifully melancholy scene outside to look at John’s amused, but slightly now more serious expression.

“Well, I hope you’re having fun, being what we are now.”

I didn’t know if he was being sarcastic, as he knew the reservations we all were having these days about being the Beatles, or if he was being genuine, warning that we should really be enjoying this. I couldn’t see the latter being true, but there was no obvious sarcastic or mocking tone. He sounded more genuine than he had all day.

“Are you?” I asked, quietly, but John didn’t reply.

He stared out with window, then said something to change the subject, “We’d be the band on the run, you know. If we ran away.”

I didn’t mind the subject change at all. I laughed and continued it, “I can see it in headlines. Band on The Run. They'd be searching for us everywhere, bloody conspiracy theorists making up shit like we were killed by the Government so that they’d have control over our _bereaved fans._ ”

“Oh God. Tell me if that’s worse than that bloody Paul is Dead theory.”

“Well, at least you’d all be dead with me.”

John nodded. I think he got what I meant. If it wouldn’t be all four of us, it would be us two. There was something both sad about that, and something that made me smile.

Night was falling and, before we knew it, our down time was ripped from us. But as we left the room, John was in front of me and he grasped my wrist tightly. He didn’t make eye contact with me, because the touch was all I should’ve needed.

_If it wasn’t all four of us, it would be us two._

_Stuck inside these four walls forever._


End file.
